


Paint Job

by serpentunder_t



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Moving, Painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentunder_t/pseuds/serpentunder_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Bass finds himself roped into helping Charlie move into her new place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint Job

**Author's Note:**

> So I've never really written a straight up sex scene before so if it sucks, forgive me?  
> Un-beta'd

Bass hauled another box of thrifted items into the wagon, wiping sweat off his brow. Today was the big day, and Rachel hadn’t lifted a finger to help except to cry about her little girl growing up. Bass rolled his eyes, it wasn’t like Charlie was getting married, she was just moving a few blocks away for Christ’s sake.

Gene had helped Charlie find a little bungalow in town so that the 23 year old could stop living under her mother’s thumb, and once Miles started begging, Bass had reluctantly agreed to help her move. That was before he’d realized just how much shit Charlie had been hoarding since moving to Willoughby. Who needed a dresser anyway? Especially Charlie, who was gone half the year on missions anyway?

“Last one!” Charlie panted, carrying a box full of what looked like knives and arrows. Bass chuckled as Miles climbed up into the wagon, grabbing the reigns. He hauled himself into the back, while Charlie lifted herself gracefully into the passenger seat. It was all Bass could do not to mockingly wave at Rachel as they left.

They pulled up to the small two bedroom, single story house. Its yard was decrepit, and a few of the windows cracked and broken, but it would do. Miles had already replaced all the locks and had a guy coming out next week to fix the windows. The three of them made fast work of unloading, dumping the boxes in the dusty living room. After the last piece of furniture was unloaded, Miles started getting antsy, clearly unsure of what to do next. “Just go Miles, mom will want you home for lunch.” Charlie spoke without looking up from the box she was opening.

Bass could all but feel the sigh of relief from Miles, “You could come too, your mom would love to have you.”

“Miles I just left. I’m good.” She threw a wave over her shoulder as Miles opened the creaky front door, disturbing the dust and leaving them for the fresher air. Bass turned to follow his friend, “Not you.” Her voice clawed at him.

“I helped you move.” It was a statement, but even he could feel the slight question underneath.

“Someone has to help me paint this place before I can unpack.” Bass wanted nothing more than to run for the door. “It’s dreadful.”

Well she wasn’t wrong. The old yellow paint had faded and peeled, looking more like urine stained wallpaper than an actual inviting home. “Can’t.” His monosyllable tendencies rising to the surface.

“Yes you can. Its high noon and the bar doesn’t open for another three hours, then drinks are on me.” She was starting to win him over, but Bass still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a very bad idea.

He and Charlie had grown close since the war with the patriots; they went on missions, led armies and battles together, even lived together in the mud and the rain for months on end. But with their bond forged in the fire and bloodshed of battle, there had also come a stirring in Bass’s gut. They communicated without words, expressing more in a look than Bass could’ve ever told one of his officers; and sometimes he thought that their eye contact spilled more secrets than intended. Bass had seen the hell she left in her wake on the battlefield, and the determination she inspired off of it, because he was as much a causality of her as the men she sent to the firing squad.

Shaking his head he just moved farther into the little house. Behind him he could hear Charlie getting into one of the boxes and setting things on the ground. When he turned he saw the cans of paint all lined up, with paintbrushes beside them and Charlie smiling.

“Okay I’ll start with this wall, you start with that one.” She was motioning to him and moving over to the wall with a large bay window in the middle of it.

“You can’t just start painting.”

Her face was pricelessly confused, “Why not?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stay annoyed at her rather than finding it adorable. “Because we need to get the dust off the walls, and deal with some of the worst of the peeling. Or your paint will look like shit.”

So they went to work, Charlie peeling the strips of paint off while Bass dusted and cleaned the walls.

Finally after what felt like hours, Bass surveyed the house. “Ready to paint?” Charlie joined him smiling.

Nodding, he made peace with the distinct lack of any possibility at finishing by the time the bar opened. Charlie had already taken a paint brush full of pain and smacked it across the wall before Bass knew what she was doing.

Paint ricocheted, splattering across the floor, the ceiling, and Charlie. He just tilted his head at her as she started to laugh, her smile disturbing the paint specks on her cheek. His long strides closed the distance between them as Charlie’s eyes widened, questioning. But before she could speak, Bass snatched the brush out of her hand and darted away.

Whiskey joined the party as they set to work, making good time considering. Bass caught himself getting lost more than once in Charlie’s movements, the way her strong lean arms arched across the walls as she stood on her tip toes, hair messily swept back in a bun and jeans covered in paint. In another life she could’ve been an artist, manipulating her mediums like she’d manipulated him in a fight not so long ago.

They joked and drank, making their way through the house and into the small bedroom in the back. The sun was beginning to set as Charlie opened another can of paint and climbed to the top of the ladder with it. He was focused on his trim work near the window when she spoke, “Any news from Walnut?” The nickname Charlie had taken to calling Blanchard ever since Miles had let it slip eliciting a laugh from Bass’s lips.

“Yeah, two weeks till the next assignment. Dunno where though.”

“Good, I’d like to get this place setup before we go.”

“All you’ll need now is a white picket fence.”

“Why?” Her voice confused, but her concentration was still on the paint brush in her hand.

“It’s an old expression. You know, married with 2.5 kids and a dog.”

“How do you have half a kid?”

Bass started laughing, finally dragging her away from the task at hand. She was standing over a foot above him, towering from the ladder as he roared. He was so caught up in the ridiculousness of the conversation that he didn’t notice in time when she’d reached out to flick some paint off her brush onto him. Still laughing he grabbed his own brush and smacked it across her already paint coated leg.

Charlie’s laugh was dripping from her lips like honeyed wine, commanding his attention as she wiggled on the ladder to adjust her aim. As if in slow motion he watched the bucket of pain tip on its side, slowly releasing its contents all down his front.

Bass sputtered like a fish out of water, pain soaked and in shock. Charlie’s laugh died almost instantly, but the moment his eyes found hers she erupted.

Unable to hold back his own husky laugh joined hers as he reached up to her, trying to wipe the paint on her. She squirmed and shimmied away, still laughing. Bass didn’t know what came over him as he chased her, trying to catch her in a paint filled embrace. When he caught her by the hand she squealed as his body crashed against hers, creating a loud squish sound that doubled her laughter.

Finally as they caught their breath, Bass’s eyes found hers, and while he was still holding onto her, he felt her close the distance. There was paint flecked across her lips as they brushed against his, his body jerking at the contact. Charlie moaned as Bass deepened the kiss, hips still grinding down on hers. Unwilling to move, Bass could feel the paint beginning to dry as his lips found a spot behind her ear that rewarded him with a breathy moan as he felt her grinding against his leg. He reached down, dragging her leg up around his waist as he lifted her against the wall so that she could grind down on his growing erection. She set a pace that drew out his own jerks as he could feel his desire growing.

Charlie broke their kiss, finding his eyes as her hands explored his hard chest through his shirt. When they reached his pants, Bass felt her fingers playing with the waist band before hastily undoing the belt. He growled, grinding against her hand as he began to fumble with her shirt, tearing it off before sinking his teeth against her silky shoulder. He nursed the bite, trailing his tongue down across her breasts. He could feel each time her breathing changed beneath his touch and it was intoxicating. He lowered her feet back to ground as he knelt before her.

Charlie tugged at his stiff shirt, which he removed before settling down to work on her pants. He popped the button and tugged at the zipper, feeling her moan above him as he placed kissed along the waist band of her newly exposed panties. Shimmying her pants down her legs, he kissed her through the thin cotton fabric, probing his tongue as her hands shot down to tangle in his hair. Bass chuckled, looking up at her steely blue eyes as he worked the fabric off her hips and down her muscled legs.

She tasted like autumn, like the cool crisp relief after the brutality of summer. As she moaned, Bass felt her hips grinding against his face, and it reminded him of that rush immediately after a fight. When you could still taste the blood in your mouth but suddenly the room was cool and your breathing began to steady. He flicked at her clit with his tongue, before lapping down her folds. The harder she gripped at his curls, begging him to go farther, the more he resisted the urge to give her what she craved. Instead he moved slowly, achingly as he suckled at her clit. Finally bringing his fingers up to brush against her opening. He felt her grind down, desperate for it, and he chuckled. Never one to deny Charlie anything, he obliged, delving one finger into her core.

He worked her slowly, building speed before adding a second finger. She was slick with desire and Bass could feel his erection throbbing against his pants. She grabbed at his shoulders, dragging him up and away from his task, and then suddenly she was kissing him with all the passion of a wildfire. Bass stripped his pants off, reclosing the distance between them, lining himself up. She opened like a book before him, moaning softly as he plunged himself into her. A few messy strokes and he was buried within her, their eyes locked as she started to move first.

She fucked like a warrior, giving as good as she got, meeting him thrust for thrust. He could’ve drowned in her, worshipping in her divinity for a lifetime as her mouth parted slightly. Their speed and force grew, and Bass lost track of where they were on the line between fucking and fighting. Reaching down, he drew her legs up around his waist, suspending her as he gained traction. The new angle allowing for him to hit deeper, feeling as her muscles shuddered around him. Charlie reached behind him, egging him on. He felt her teeth close around his neck, sucking as he rammed himself into her, using his one available hand to reach down between them.

He rubbed and flicked at her sweet spot while continuing his brutal pace, and as he watched, Charlie’s eyes began to flutter shut as her breath became ragged. He could feel her closing around him like a vice grip as she panted and her entire body tensed. He couldn’t contain the growl that the sight drew from him as his pace became sloppy. She met his eyes as he pulled out, barely managing to spill himself on her thigh, before she was kissing him again.

When they finally broke apart, chests still heaving, Bass noticed that her hair was sticking to the wall behind her, the painted wall not having a chance to dry before they’d claimed it. He laughed, a low chuckle that drew Charlie out of her daze.

“Motherfucker, we’re going to have to repaint this whole wall.”

Bass just smiled and kissed her bruised lips. “Tomorrow.”


End file.
